her chin to look into his face.
His eyes were twinkling—he really enjoyed all this Christmas stuff, didn’t he? He was going to make a wonderful Santa Claus. He’d make a wonderful father too—if he ever settled down and started a family. She wondered again why he hadn’t.
“You can sit up with me,” he said. “And get the carols started.”
“Carols?”
He shook his head dolefully. “Hope, are you telling me you’ve never been on a sleigh ride?”
“Never.”
“Then you’d best get your coat and boots and bundle up warm. It’s high time you experienced one.”
And then he was gone, to organize the first round of kids.
She met them outside, bundled as warm as she could be in heavy mittens and a hat, and one of Blake’s goosedown jackets that was too big but the warmest thing she’d ever worn. The sleigh waited, hitched to two huge horses that stood so patiently Hope was sure they qualified as gentle giants. One shook his head, making the bells ring out merrily.
Cate clapped her hands at the sound. “Mister Blake, you do have bells!”
Blake tucked blankets around the knees of the passengers and rubbed the top of Cate’s pom-pommed hat. “Didn’t Hope promise you we would?”
Cate spun around to look at Hope. “You were right! He does have bells!”
The research, the drive, the money, the awkward moment with Blake this morning—all was worth it when she saw the smile on Cate’s face.
“Of course!” she replied with a laugh. “What’s a sleigh ride without bells?”
Hope climbed up front with Blake and nudged him with her elbow. “You’ve made Christmas for her, you know. Probably for all of them.”
“They make mine, too,” he replied quietly. He turned sideways and called back, “Everyone ready?”
“Yeah!” went up the chorus.
He gave the reins a gentle slap and the team started off. The runners squeaked on the snow, and Hope could smell the freshness of the air mingled with the pleasant smell of horses. Once they passed through the open gate to one of the pastures Blake urged the team into a trot, picking up the speed and causing some squeals in the back. Before long the first chorus of “Jingle Bells” started without any prompting from Hope, accompanied by the percussion of the bells on the harness. After “Jingle Bells” came “Silent Night,” the young voices so sweet that Hope felt a stinging behind her eyes.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “You were right. This is special, Blake.”
“Didn’t you have fun Christmases at home?”
She shrugged. “Not so much. I tried, and Gram definitely tried, but most of the time either my parents were split and my dad was missing, or they were together and things were so tense that it just felt wrong, you know? After they split for good it was worse. We usually spent Christmas with Gram, but our mother wasn’t always around.”
“I’m sorry, Hope.”
She shrugged again, not wanting to delve too deeply into those feelings. “It is what it is, you know? I tried for a long time to step into that role, but it was a bit much to expect from a young girl. After a while I gave up.”
“You were too young to be the mother.”
She shrugged. “My sisters resented me for it, I think. I was only trying to help, but to them I was being bossy. I forgot how to have fun—thought that if I somehow kept things together maybe things would work out. That it would help Mom so she’d want to be around more. And if she were around more she’d be happier with Dad...” She paused, wondering how much to confess. “It was too much pressure to put on myself. The snowball fight the other day...? I haven’t done anything spontaneous like that in years.”
“Everything’s precisely planned?”
“I don’t get disappointed that way. I’ve had a lot of disappointments, Blake. I’ve learned not to have high expectations.”
The song changed to the more upbeat “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” The bells rang out merrily and the cold made their skin pink and vibrant.
“I hope you’re not disappointed now,” Blake replied, handling the reins easily in one gloved hand as they maneuvered through another gate into a grove of trees.
He put his free arm along the back of the seat, not quite an embrace, but she felt the intimacy of it anyway. It made her long to lean against his shoulder and let all her troubles go.
The tall spruces on either side made the setting even better, adding the spicy scent of their needles to the winter potpourri.
“Today’s a good day,” she said simply, afraid to say any more lest emotion get the better of her.
Truthfully, today felt like a fairy tale. In her quest for perfection over the years she’d forgotten what it was like to enjoy simple pleasures. She’d pushed so much of her old life aside—things like hearing children’s laughter and baking cookies and not worrying about how she looked and enjoying the moment.
Her quest for the perfect picture wasn’t important right now. Perhaps it wasn’t important at all anymore. She was living a sterile, scheduled existence, hiding behind a camera instead of participating in her own life.
She needed to fix that. She wasn’t quite sure how, but she hoped that the trip to Beckett’s Run would help. It was a start, anyway.
The horses picked up their pace as the back of the house came into view again, their necks bobbing as they led the way home.
“You coming on the next run?” Blake asked. “Or are you too cold?”
His shoulder buffered hers, and it would be so easy to slide over another inch or two and lean against him, swaying to the rhythm of the horses’ gait. She was tempted, but she knew it wouldn’t solve anything. Leaving was going to be difficult enough.
She shook her head. “I think I’ll help Anna in the kitchen.”
“Don’t forget, when I get back it’s Santa time.”
Her heart thudded. “I haven’t forgotten.”
They pulled to a stop and Blake hopped down, then offered his hand to Hope to help her out of the seat. She put her mittened hand in his and jumped, landing so close to him the zippers of their jackets touched. For a prolonged second they paused, looking in each other’s eyes.
Hope finally looked away. “Santa’d better get a move on,” she murmured, and skirted around him toward the house.
As she went inside she heard his cheerful voice instructing the next round of kids where to sit, more laughter. She felt a strange sense of belonging and yet not belonging. Because this wasn’t hers. She was only borrowing it for today. And it was getting harder and harder to remember that.
*
